Staying Alive
by chraezanty1317
Summary: Before Haymitch Abernathy became an alcoholic, he won the Second Quarter Quell. How does Haymitch's girlfriend feel as she remains in District 12, watching him face mortal danger every minute in the Arena? What happens after he wins the Games and returns home? This is only rated T because I can never really decide on my ratings. Written from the POV of a character I made up.


**_A Hunger Games Prequel: _Staying**** Alive**

"Haymitch Abernathy!"

_"How long do you intend to follow me around? It's annoying, more than anything else."_

_"Nah, ya know you don't mean that, sweetheart." There it was again, the familiar snarky, arrogant smile. The blazing sun had made him squint his gray eyes a bit as not to be blinded. His messy hair was the color of chestnuts, which reminded her of autumn and the beautiful leaves falling from the forest's trees. She quickly composed herself - her secretly drooling over him would only make him laugh and she under no circumstances wanted to have reasons to be embarrassed - and made a show of rolling her eyes._

_"You're too full of yourself. One of these days you're going to have an enemy more powerful or clever than you and he will make you pay for your attitude."_

_"What's that?"_

_"You're overestimating yourself."_

_"Don't pretend to hate me, I can see through that fancy façade."_

_"I don't mean_ that_. I'm serious, Haymitch."_

_"Hey, you just indirectly confessed to liking me. Why the need for the tough exterior?" Signature arrogant smile. She had the impulse to simply smack him over the head with a heavy object for being so ignorant and reckless - that had not changed since she had first met him in school. She flashed a grin at him instead. She couldn't help but feel affection for him - he was simply too much fun to be around and she knew better than anyone else that the young man could be very kind and compassionate if someone important to him was having a bad day._

_Without thinking, she leaned closer and kissed him. After she pulled away a genuinely happy smile had spread on both of their faces. Suddenly, a deep voice interrupted their moment: "HAYMITCH! How long are you going to keep flirting with the girl? Dinner's ready and if you keep standing around there your brother will eat your share of the food too!"_

_He sighed and ran into the direction of his house. He turned around to face Celia and called: "See you tomorrow! Don't forget that!"_

_She answered: "And the day after that!"_

_They never said "goodbye" to each other. Their farewells always included a future where they would meet again. *_

Never in the sixteen years where she's been alive had Celia dreamed that the mention of this name would make her sick to the stomach. Haymitch walked onto the stage. He was exceptionally calm and was he...? He was actually _grinning_! That sight made her stifle a hysterical laugh that threatened to come out of her mouth for a second and she nearly choked. Her throat felt like she had an invisible rope tied around it that was strangling her. She blinked fiercely but that only made the tears continue flowing down her pale white cheeks. The girl raised her trembling hand to her mouth to keep herself from sobbing or screaming.

The strong and incredibly handsome young man she had come to love was going to disappear from her life as if he had never been a part of it. All that just because of the Capitol's shallow fashion-victims-for-citizens with a lust for blood. Their barbaric and sadistic nature had not ever been as clear to her as in that moment.

Celia was not a particularly romantic person. Living in the poorest District had taught her long ago that what saved one's own and one's family's life was rational thinking and contemplating suicide was just a cowardly way to waste precious time. Volunteering for Maysilee Donner was certainly a possibility - but common sense held Celia back from doing that. First of all, the idea of throwing one's life away for love had nothing noble or admirable for her. It was insanity. She would not have a chance at winning, that was a fact. Spending a last couple of weeks with her boyfriend training, only to be forced to kill him in the Arena? Never.

She felt bad for Maysilee, but pushing her guilt aside and quickly calculating the odds, she realized Haymitch actually _had _a fairly good chance to come back home. He was pretty athletic and intelligent, after all. _Don't keep up hopes that will get crushed._

She ignored that train of thought and forced herself to smile when her boyfriend looked at her.

The following hours went by in a blur. She could only clearly remember one part of her last conversation with Haymitch.

"Got any advice for me?", he asked earnestly. Celia was deeply touched by how much he valued her opinion.

"Stay alive.", she murmured, grinning half-heartedly. Haymitch hugged her tightly and whispered: "I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow. On TV.", she added after she saw his confused expression. Looking back on it she could have slapped herself for making such a stupid remark but he didn't seem to mind. Little she knew that her words of advice would haunt him many years after his Hunger Games had ended.

One would presume that after watching the Games as an annual duty for sixteen years nothing could shock her, and one would presume wrong. Celia had not slept for at least 72 hours when Haymitch was attacked by cute-looking, fluffy flesh-eating squirrels. Absolutely nothing could keep the girl from being glued to the television. She refused to eat or drink anything until the District 12 tribute was as healthy as possible under the circumstances again. When she got more sleep than half an hour at a time, she had nightmares.

When Haymitch and Maysilee became allies it didn't even occur to Celia to be jealous - as long as it was probable that he would return he could have announced his marriage to any girl in the universe and Celia would simply have wished him luck. By the time it had come to the final fight between Haymitch and the female District 1 tribute Celia's jaw was covered with blood due to her biting her bottom lip till she thought she couldn't stand the pain anymore, which led to her biting it even harder. The moment he was crowned victor she jumped to her feet and cried some gibberish, only to faint. That was the only time she had ever fainted in her life - but all possible feelings crashing in on her upon the knowledge that he would soon be in her arms again and out of the Games forever was just too much to handle at the time.

The following days, waiting for Haymitch to arrive in District 12 again, were the ones where Celia was most happy and most impatient. Then, in the middle of the day, a tall man appeared at her doorstep - President Snow. He was accompanied by Peacekeepers unknown to her. The powerful politician seemed friendly and polite, if cold. He asked her to go on a walk with him and she did - how could she refuse?

"What is it? Has something happened to Haymitch? I thought he will arrive in a few hours." Confused as to why they would want to speak to her.

President Snow nodded and smiled. "Yes, he will. Believe me, he can't wait to see you and tell you all about his cleverness and beating the Capitol." For a fraction of a second Celia could almost imagine him with a snake's tongue and eyes, poisonous and deadly. She shook her head. What a silly and ridiculous thought.

A sense of dread came over the pretty, red-haired sixteen years old young woman as she realized they were at the District's border marked by the electrical fence. The last thing she felt was a painful shock going through her body as someone pushed her into the fence that was suddenly buzzing.

Epilogue

They all said it was an unfortunate accident, nothing more. Nothing special. Their District finally had a victor to celebrate, after all. What was a girl in comparison to that? How could she possibly be important?

Celia's funeral was a quiet event. Haymitch wouldn't know that, of course, since he spent the day it took place in a dark corner of his brand new and luxurious house drinking an enormous amount of liquor. He knew exactly why his girlfriend had died. His mother and brother had followed, too. He himself had stayed alive during the Games, just like she had advised, only to finding his enemy knew the perfect way to make him pay for the humiliation he had caused him.

Next year he would be a mentor - he would have to teach tributes all the ways to die honorably while the whole of Panem watched in favor of winning with intelligence, outsmarting their oppressors, and indirectly having the blood of their loved ones on their hands. He was an example for all victors and he would never be able to forget it.

Haymitch looked at the bottle of alcohol in his hand. It wouldn't hurt to try, though.

_The End_

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading, I hope you liked this little story! As much as you can like one with that depressing a mood anyway. **

**I'd really appreciate reviews. Have a nice day! :) **

*** Flashback to one scene of their past**


End file.
